Mouth agape, Oscar watched his sons stalk across the room. They went directly to Sylvie, and her eyes lit up when she saw them. Although he couldn’t hear the sound of her voice, he imagined her murmured excitement at their arrival. They each took turns giving her a hug and kiss, and when she pointed in his direction, they nodded—indicating they’d already seen and spoken to Oscar.
Oscar flagged down a server for another drink and then smiled at a friend who approached—one he hadn’t seen in a while. The local socialite was someone he and Sylvie used to spend time with, back when they were married.
“You and Sylvie?” she said. “You old dog, you. Congratulations!” She gave him a brief hug.
Oscar grinned and entered into an animated conversation with his friend. As they talked, uneasiness stirred in the bottom of his stomach. All along he’d blamed Sylvie for the end of their marriage, but had he also played some part in its demise?
During those few minutes with his sons, he’d learned two valuable pieces of information. First, Stephan and Reese’s loyalty to their mother was absolute. Second, they thought he had hurt her and were still angry at him about it.
Oscar stood in the doorway of Sylvie’s dressing room. The mostly white space popped with color from an extensive wardrobe of clothes, shoes, and accessories. Her high heels had been removed and sat in front of the storage island, while she took out the left earring in front of the vanity mirror.
“Aren’t you going to get undressed?” she asked, slanting a glance at him.
“No, I just want to watch you.”
He enjoyed watching her, and from the little smile that remained on her lips, she enjoyed being watched.
“Would you like to go to brunch tomorrow? Kayak Restaurant has an extensive selection, and it would be the perfect excuse to get out of the house and sit on their patio and enjoy a nice meal.” She lifted an eyebrow.
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“Perfect. Oh by the way, I spoke to Simone about Cameron and told her I won’t meddle in her relationship.”
Oscar crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s a good start, but you should meet with him again, in a different setting this time. Give him a chance. Get to know him.”
“Perhaps I will, and when I do I’ll also make sure he understands that if he hurts Simone, I will destroy him and his little nightclub.” She reached for the other earring.
Oscar pressed a hand to his head and sighed. “No, Sylvie. You won’t do that. That’s not how this works.”
“Why can’t I destroy him if he hurts my daughter?”
“Because Simone is an adult, and if they break up, they go their separate ways. Period. She only needs you to comfort her afterward. No one needs to be destroyed.”
She sniffed. “No one hurts my babies.”
“Sylvie.”
“I heard you.” She set the earring on the vanity beside its twin but didn’t look at him.
“You don’t always have to retaliate. The kids are grown.”
“I will take your opinion under advisement.” She reached for the latch on her bracelet next. “I don’t want her to get hurt, that’s all. You know how Simone is. She’s so sensitive. Her heart is too big.”
She could almost be talking about herself. Sylvie donated millions every year to her family’s foundation and other charitable organizations, supporting worthy causes around the country and the world. In addition, she funded documentaries that addressed a variety of social issues. She exemplified a living, breathing example of the mantra her family had lived by for years—that they were in a unique position to leave the world in a better state than they found it, and it was their moral duty to do so.
“I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you,” Oscar blurted. The words came out of him in an unexpected rush.
Sylvie paused, an expression of uncertainty crossing her face. “Okay,” she said, setting the bracelet on the table.
She reached back for the latch on her necklace, but Oscar moved quickly and replaced her fingers with his. Watching her reflection, he said, “I left because we were hurting each other. Too much.”
Her hands remained at her sides, eyes connecting with his in the mirror. Oscar placed the necklace on top of the vanity and rubbed his hands up and down Sylvie’s bare arms.
“You hated me,” she said.
“Hated what we’d become,” he said quietly. “I never hated you.”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“I never stopped loving you, Sylvie.” His voice had turned into a hoarse whisper.
The dewy sheen in her eyes twisted his heart.
“You don’t mean that,” she said huskily.
He gently squeezed her soft skin. “I do. At first I couldn’t admit my feelings, but I can’t tell you how many times I questioned the children for news of you. I wondered what you were doing. What great business feat you had accomplished. The more intimate questions, the ones I didn’t dare ask, were who were you dating and why hadn’t you remarried?”
A watery smile crossed her lips. “I questioned the children for news of you, too, hoping I wasn’t being too obvious,” Sylvie said in a soft voice.
“What are you saying?”
“I suppose—” She broke off, inhaled, swallowed.
Oscar waited, his own breath arrested in his lungs, pervasive tension in his chest.
Sylvie turned to face him but focused at a point on his upper torso. “I’ve been so angry. So hurt. For so long.” She fingered a button on his shirt and looked up at him. “I never stopped loving you, either.”
Oscar’s arms swept around her waist on a sigh of relief as he drew her closer. “We can do this, can’t we?”
She nodded. “I think so.”
“We’ll get it right this time.”
She nodded again, and he kissed her mouth. Sylvie’s arms closed around his neck as she lifted on the toes of her bare feet, pressing her soft body against his. No other woman felt as perfect in his arms. No one else made the blood surge in his veins the way she did. Thirty years from now, this was the woman he wanted by his side.
Oscar rubbed his hands up and down the curve of her spine, then lower to her soft bottom. He drizzled soft kisses to the corner of her mouth and sucked on her lower lip. Her moans made his body hard, and his lips became eager to taste every inch of her skin. He backed her into the bedroom, their mouths clinging together, arms locked around each other.
When they stood in front of the bed, Oscar lifted his head and let the back of his hand brush against her temple. He still couldn’t believe he was here with her again. His heart became full and near to exploding in his chest.
“Oh, Oscar,” she whispered, her gaze running over his face. Her fingers followed suit, touching the corners of his eyes and brushing his hair. The love was there for him to see, unveiled, shining in her eyes. “How I’ve missed you.” Her upper lip trembled and her voice shook.
His heart flew high in his chest, as buoyant as his spirits in that moment. Oscar lowered the zipper of the dress and eased it down her shoulders, eager to show how much he loved her, and for much too long, how much he’d missed her, too.
Chapter 10
“Is there anything else?” Sylvie looked around the small boardroom at the team of seven, anxious to get out of there. The impromptu meeting at the end of the day with the fashion team had taken longer than expected, but now everyone had their assignments and she was confident they were well on their way to being ready for the upcoming breast cancer awareness fundraiser and fashion show.
Everyone at the table shook their head.
“Since there are no further questions, I’ll excuse myself from this project moving forward. Roselle is the new point person. Questions, comments, and suggestions should be funneled through her. I don’t want to hear about it unless the sky is falling, is that understood?”
Nods all around.
“Wonderful. Have a good weekend, everyone.”
The group stood, gathering up n
otepads and electronic tablets, and filed out of the room. Roselle remained behind.
In the past few weeks, she’d gone through quite a transformation. Her hair, cut in a layered bob, glistened and moved when she did. The gray pallor in her cinnamon-brown skin had been replaced with red undertones, giving her complexion a refreshed, natural appearance. Her sticklike frame had filled out some, so that the wine-colored slacks and cream blouse hung on her body in a flattering way.
She picked up a green smoothie from the table. “Jacques called. He has a new face he wants to send for next week’s go-see. He thinks you’ll love her.”
“Jacques always thinks I’ll love his models.” Sylvie pursed her lips and stood. “But a fresh face might be perfect for the new print campaign.” She walked out of the room and Roselle followed. “Have her come in. You’ll be here, of course?”
“Of course,” Roselle confirmed.
“Perfect. I’ll let you and Nick handle the go-see and choose the models you think best fit with our brand. The three of us can meet afterward and discuss your impressions. You and Nick can handle that, can’t you?”
The additional responsibility made Roselle’s eyes glow. “Yes, Miss Johnson. Thank you.” No gushing. Just a simple thanks and a faint smile of appreciation.
“Wonderful. Have a good weekend.”
Roselle smiled and then walked away, her steps more confident, her strides sure. They still had work to do, but she’d come a long way in a short time.
Sylvie approached Inez. “Any messages?”
“Business-wise, nothing that can’t wait until Monday, but you did receive a message from Mr. Brooks that he would be running an hour late for dinner this evening.”
The delay was actually perfect. The extra hour gave Sylvie time to wrap up a few more items on her to-do list and make a stop on the way home.
She left the office thirty minutes later. Her driver took her to a specialty store where she picked up a gift she’d ordered for Oscar—nine stainless steel whiskey stones set in a pine box, which she’d had engraved with his name on top of it. An inexpensive gift, but one she thought he’d appreciate and could make good use of when he enjoyed the occasional nightcap.
“You can take the night off,” Sylvie said to the driver, as she exited the limo onto the sidewalk. “I’m in for the rest of the evening.”
“Thank you, Miss Johnson.”
Sylvie walked toward the building. From the corner of her eye, she caught a young woman charging toward her. Doing a quick assessment, she noted anger in the woman’s expression. The doorman noticed the woman at the same time and launched himself between them.
“Can I help you?” he asked, voice heavy with authority. He stood a full foot above them, with a body as wide as a wall.
Sylvie peered around him at the young woman, and recognized her as the one who’d attended the function in Miami with Oscar. The one he’d booked a separate hotel room for and sent back to Atlanta the next day.
“I need to speak to her.” Her ponytail rocked when she jabbed a finger in Sylvie’s direction.
“I’m afraid—”
Sylvie placed a hand on the doorman’s back. “It’s all right,” she said, curious about why this person would be waiting outside her residence.
“If you’re sure…” The doorman sent an uneasy glance in her direction.
“I am. I’m sure that…Caitlin, isn’t it?—means me no harm.”
He frowned, appearing unsatisfied with that response, but lumbered over to the door and crossed his arms in front of his pelvis while he kept an eye on them.
“How may I help you?” Sylvie asked.
“You stole him from me,” Caitlin said.
“I beg your pardon?”
She came closer, but Sylvie stood her ground, gripping the blue and silver gift-wrapped box in her hand, prepared to use it if need be.
“You’re Oscar’s ex-wife. You stole him from me.”
“Stole him?”
“Yes.” Caitlin angled her head higher. “He told me all about you. How heartless you are and how you only care about money.”
Sylvie flicked her gaze over Caitlin, from her slicked-back hair to the cheap-looking pumps on her feet. “My dear, if you know who I am, then it’s not very wise of you to approach me in such a manner, is it? I’m not one of your little friends. Let me make it clear who exactly I am. I am Sylvie Johnson. I have holdings in the billions. I could sell the likes of you a million times over and still have millions left. As a schoolgirl, I had more style, class, and grace than you will have in your entire lifetime. I know that must hurt quite a bit, my dear, but I’m simply telling you the truth. So please, when you approach me, have a little respect.”
The young woman’s lower lip trembled and her eyes flashed with a mixture of rage and pain. “You may have won the battle, but not the war. He’ll be back. As a matter of fact, I bet you don’t know I saw him recently. Did he mention that? He gave me this.” She extended her wrist to show off a diamond bracelet. “The only reason he’s with you now is because of your money. Up until we saw you in Miami, I made him happy.”
“Well, you must not have made him very happy if just the sight of me caused him to be done with you.” Sylvie leaned in closer and whispered, “If I were you, I wouldn’t tell anyone that.”
Caitlin let out a low growl. “It’s true what he said about you. You’re a heartless, raging bitch!”
Sylvie gave the young woman a slow, frosty smile. She’d been called much worse in her lifetime. “Let me explain to you about being a raging bitch. A raging bitch can crush you beneath her three-thousand-dollar stilettos and press”—she demonstrated with her left foot—“until there is nothing left but your empty, flattened carcass. You, my dear, are as insignificant as a worker bee. I, on the other hand, am a queen bee. Do you know what the queen does?”
Sylvie didn’t wait for an answer.
“The queen controls. Everyone follows the queen. Even the man who calls her a heartless, raging bitch. Because they can’t stay away. The pheromones make me irresistible—spelled with a P-H instead of an F, in case you need to look it up when we get through here. Run along.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Go back to whatever hole you slithered out of. Because you obviously have me confused with someone who gives a damn. And I don’t.”
She stalked toward the building with her head held high. The doorman swung the door wide and she glided through.
Chapter 11
The minute Oscar stepped off the elevator into Sylvie’s penthouse, he knew something was wrong. Unnerving quiet and stillness in the air warned him about trouble to come before he saw her face.
She sat on the loveseat in the sitting room, legs crossed, with a gift-wrapped package beside her. When he entered, a steely expression filled her honey-colored eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“You won’t believe what happened when I arrived at home this evening.” Her voice sounded oddly upbeat. Cartoonish in its cadence.
“What happened?” Oscar asked slowly, cautiously. He came farther into the room.
“I ran into your girlfriend, Caitlin. Right outside the building.”
Oh no. His shoulders dropped in dismay.
Although he initially thought Caitlin had accepted his dismissal after their dinner, she’d started calling him again last week. Finally, a couple of days ago he’d told her to stop calling once and for all. He didn’t think she even cared about him. She was more interested in the extravagant lifestyle he’d temporarily exposed her to.
“Nothing to say?” Sylvie said.
“Are you going to listen to my explanation?” Oscar asked.
She shot to her feet. “Have you been seeing her while you’ve been seeing me? Did you buy her a diamond bracelet?”
He lifted a hand to calm her down. “Sylvie, let me explain.”
“The answer is yes or no. It’s very simple.”
“The answer is not simple at all. The answer is
complicated. Yes, I saw her—”
“You saw her?” Her eyes widened. “While you’ve been seeing me?”
“The first week or so after I arrived in Atlanta, I met with her. Briefly.”
“Was that before or after you kissed me?”
Dammit. Any answer he gave made him sound guilty, and he was sorely tempted to lie. “After.”
“Well…” She swallowed and fisted a hand on her hip. “You’ve become a bit of a playboy in your old age. You have an older, wealthy lover and a young, nubile whore. How wonderful for you.”
“She’s not a whore.” Oscar immediately regretted the response when her eyes widened accusatorially. “What I mean—”
“What you mean is I should not say anything about your girlfriend.”
“You’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion.”
“Am I blowing the diamond bracelet out of proportion, too?”
“The jewelry was a parting gift, given to her weeks ago. Something to say goodbye, that’s all.”
“I thought you said goodbye to her in Miami.”
“I did, but she called, and I thought it was rude to ignore her.”
“You’re such a kindhearted man. If only all sugar daddies were as generous as you, the world would be a better place.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop it? What else are you hiding from me?”
“I wasn’t hiding anything. She and I are done.”
“Then what was she doing here? How many others are there?”
“There are no others,” Oscar insisted.
“You will not make a fool of me, Oscar Brooks! How dare you! How dare you come here and speak to me about your feelings and love. Love? You know nothing about love. You’re nothing but a con artist! I’m not even sure we’re back together at this point.”
“What?” Self-control slipped between Oscar’s fingers. “Why do you think I’ve been here all this time? I don’t have any business in Atlanta. I’m here for you—because of you.” He let out a disgusted breath. “You’re not going to let me explain, are you?” he said through gritted teeth. “This isn’t about Caitlin. You were waiting for me to screw up. Because when I screw up, it proves you were right all along.”
Passion Rekindled Page 6
